Life as an Immortal with a mortal child
by icebucket
Summary: I was bored and this popped into my head. Go ahead and flame; I dont mind. Oneshot with Lorian's POV now a two shot. ch2:Arkarian's POV
1. Chapter 1

**I was bored and this popped into my head. completly random :)**

**review!!**

I watched as he was mistreated and abused. I watched as they scarred him, body and soul. I've never felt so helpless._ How dare they? How dare they touch him! _And I could do nothing to stop them. It would attract attention. If she knew... if she knew he was mine, that I had sired him, she would kill him on the spot, or corrupt him just to spite me. So I waited and watched, making sure they at least kept him alive.

On his eighteenth birthday, when my gift came into effect, I went to him. I took him away from his painful memories and gave him a home in the Citadel. I healed his bruised body and battered soul, took him out of the shell he had become. I honed his strength and nurtured his skills, teaching him everything from grammar to self-defense. I was surprised by his capacity to learn; by how he devoured everything. I was also very proud. And, on his twenty-eighth birthday, I gave him his wings.

He had power, incredible power. Powers of an immortal. He would be a valuable asset to the Guard. I purposefully streched out his training. There was no need to rush. I taught him to weild numerous weapons, to control his strength, to shut out his thoughts, and how to read other's. I taught him many languages, taught him to analyse and understand, to suppress emotion and control impulse. I showed him maths and sciences and exlained to him his role in the prophecy.

I watched him proudly as he regained his confidence and realised his value. I watched and smiled as he learned to trust again and saw the joy on his face after completing his first mission. Gradually, his blonde locks darkened, turned blue and his soulful eyes turned a deep shade of violet. I watched him train his first apparentice, never growing impatient, never giving up hope.

The Tribunal members all loved him; and he grew attached to each of them in turn. There was no one else to get attached _to_. It saddened me deeply that my son would share my fate._ I_, at least, had chosen this; chosen to disregard my heart's desires. He had done thus by default. For six hundred years, I watched him suffer silently as his friends, his apperentices, grew and loved and died. For six hundred years, he accepted his fate, never once complaining. But I saw how deeply it affected him, how desperatly he wished to be a part of that natural cycle, desperatly wanted to love and be loved in return. I wished, with every fibre of my immortal being, to alleviate his pain. And I knew that I could not.

It was selfish in the extreme to keep him this way. I could give him the life he wanted, remove his ability to stop ageing. He didn't know this, but I was sure he would eventually find out. But I could not loose him, the Guard could not loose him and, for now, he was relativly content.

Then she came along, a mere child of fifteen, and stole his heart. It made no sense that he would fall for her; but he did. He fell very hard. He tried to convince himself that if was just an infatuation; one of the few he had had over the years. He would successfully decieve himslelf only to see her again and have every last inch of his resolve shattered.

He was amused by her youthful naïveté and awed by her courage and determination. I cought him thinking about her incisively. At her initiation, he was absolutly bristling with joy and something else. Something deeper.

Everything I had taught him about not getting attached was gone to waste. He could not ignore his feelings. I suspected something more. There was more to this girl than a pretty face and an endearing personality. My suspicions proved true. She was his soulmate.

At this point, denial was futile. He knew he loved her and he knew he could never have her. And it was killing him. I saw him passed out drunk at the Citadel's bar; and, judjing by the amount he had taken, this was not the first time.

I worried for my son. How much more of this could he take? He had never truly loved before and now his love was torturing him. It was utterly unfair to him.

Then Lathenia overstepped her mark and kidnapped him. The only thing that stopped me from going to the Underworld myself to get him was the fact that it would have cause suspicion. She would have felt my presence and, making the connection, killed him immediatly. But I refused to send just anyone. There was one chance to save him, it would have to be done right.

It was then I realised that she loved him just as much as he did her. I laughed about it later. That a sixteenteen-year-old girl would have the courage to yell at me to do something about Arkarian's kidnapping was beyond hillarious. Of caurse, at the time, it had angered me immensely.

I was beyond relieved at his safe return. Then I told him. I told him his true parentage. I think he suspected it all along. I wasn't surprised. I was surprised at his request. He wanted me to strip him of his power to stop ageing and I would not do that.

I knew that after everything he had been through, he would not let it go. He wants her and he is sick of not being able to have her. I knew what he meant. I experience that too. I could not bear to loose him but to keep him and break his heart was worse.

Then I found the perfect solution. I could let them be together. Forever. I was wary from the mistake with Marduke. But no, she had proved her loyalty and her love. You don't travel to the depths of the Underworld, defying a direct order in the process, resulting in imminent death regardless of wether or not you were successful, for just anybody. She truly and completly loved him. And he deserved her love.

It was one of the few happy endings we all wish we had. And now, as I watch them from my palace, playing and laughing in the courtyard, I do not regret my decision. I have never seen my son happier. I loved the pettite blonde for what she had done for my son. I smiled. It was hard _not_ to love Isabel. She was absolutly charming.


	2. Chapter 2

I walk through the ages, unchanged; untouched by the years. I flit through time like a leaf floating through the wind; unremarkable. Unnoticed by most. A shadow of life; ghostly.

There is no reason for my being. No reason for anything anymore. The color has drained from every aspect of life, leaving everything in dull shades of gray that blend into each other. Swirls of shadow and light; undefined. There is no beauty anymore.

It ceased to matter when the day ended and night began; it is all the same in this monotonous existence. There is nothing for me to live for, and simply existing is becoming rather tiresome. My life is the Guard, and even that has become a chore. There was simply nothing else to do.

It was getting old really. The Order will cuase chaos and the Guard will do anything to stop it. It is something expected now. There was routine within the chaos.

What an utter bore. Where is the originality? When I look back at those beginning years now, the excitement I had felt when I first joined the Guard, the thrill of the mission, had that all been real? It seems so silly to me now. A foolish game Lathenia plays simply to pass the time. But over and over, I get sucked back into the game, by forces far greater than mine. Sometimes, I wonder; when this is all over, what will be left for me?

I try not to dwell on it, for it will only cause me pain. But when you have an eternity of free time, your mind cannot help but wonder. I see my future played out for me; a never ending blackness, stretching out into the distance; going on forever. There is nothing there. And I fear there never will be. An eternity of nothingness. Of solitude and silent contemplations of the unfairness that the world operates on.

Many believe I am whole unto myself, and I used to be. Relieved of the constant abuse I was dealt with, solitude felt like a heaven to me. A few moments alone was all I got of rest during my painful childhood, and the silent hours of the moonfilled nights were a time to reflect and nurture my wounds. They preserved my sanity.

But as the years wore sluggishly on, one century molding into the next, no one and nothing to hold on to, the deafening silence of loneliness began to weigh down on me and sometimes I felt I couldn't breathe.

New faces came and left faster than seaons turned. They did nothing to ease the empitness of my life.

They all had the same reaction to me. Surprise - my hair and eyes were not something expected of an ancient worrier.

Attraction in some- I will never understand women's obsession with toned chests and abs and I was never interested enough to return the sentiment. It was quite disturbing - the vulgarity of some minds.

And wonder - envy even - when they learned of my gift. If only they knew how I wished I could give it up.

They were my pupils for a time, colleagues, but they never lasted. They moved on, they lived and loved and aged, and died content with their lives. I was a mere acquaintance to them, and they were even less to me - with the very rare exception here and there. They had to be. I was saddened by their passing, but was never close enough to feel their loss. They were merely faces, locked away in the back of my mind; not forgotten but never remembered.

I formed a friendship with one particular soldier who understood my dilemma, to an extent. Marduke was not as tied down as I was by this cursed gift. Time had done nothing to his eyes or hair and he was free to go and come as he pleased - marking me out as more of a freak than my prolonged life already did. But he understood what it was like to shut yourself from the world, to distance yourself from anyone or anything you could possibly loose. Eternity was a long time to harbour grief. He was a pleasant companion and often a loyal friend and his mind seemed as ageless as his body.

I envied him sometimes. I envied the small glimpses of the world he got to see, and the careless nature of his soul. He was not bothered by eternity.

Apeirophobic, he'd once called me. I'd laughed, unwilling to admit how true his words were. I would trade it all - the youth, the wisdom, the power - I would give it all up without a second's hesitation if for nothing else than to see a single wrinkle in the mirror.

But intelect overruled my feelings and eventually it ceased to bother me at all. I learned to contend myself to secondhand glances through biased minds and purely visual and rather vague images in paintings. There would never be more for me and I had no reason to hope for more.

No one suspected my inner turmoil. No one noticed my slow withdrawal. Years passed on and a part of me would close off with every new dawn. I did not wish to die - at least not enough to take my own life, or let someone take it for me, but I did not want to live either. Everything became mechanical to me. Conversations were held without any recollection of a single word I had uttered. I looked but did not see - I simply analysed and understood. I did my job and smiled when necessary but there was nothing to mark the passing of time. Not a single wrinkle to show for, nor wisdom gained to account for almost six centuries of meaningless cycles.

Life continued to slip away.

Food was no longer a delicacy to be enjoyed, but a necessity to be endured. The sun was always cold and distant. The moon and stars were seen too often to retain their mysterious glory.

My emotions were constantly controlled, and I felt nothing I did not want to feel. I was concerned when appropriate and compassionate when the time called for it. I believed I was content. Or at least forced myself to.

And then _she _comes along.

The universe must have had one great big laugh when it sent her my way. That definitely proves it; I had done something unimaginably horrible in some distant past life to deserve such cruel torture, and I was blind not to notice the signs sooner. The abused childhood, the lonely years - deprived of all true emotions, making me vulnerable to their new intensity at her arrival. It would be hilarious - if I wasn't the one victim to the sick joke.

Isabel.

The name was unusual for this time period but it suited her perfectly. It was very hard to accurately describe the utter devastation she had wrecked on my world.

Everything changed. _I _changed.

It was probably the universe trying to be funny again.

She was just another teenage girl, not the first one I had had to work with and probably not the last. I respectfully kept out of her hormone ridden thoughts and concentrated on the task of briefing her further about the Guard and the upcoming mission.

But she quickly coaght my attention.

Her mind captivated me. It was different form the rest and I was wrong to have assumed the opposite. It was hazardous and jumbled, hardly following its own orders. It thought things and contradicted itself, coming to conclusions in the most absurd ways.

She had a stubborn streak a mile wide and a determination many lacked. You could see it in her depth-less eyes, beneath the brilliant glow of youth and wonder, beneath the care and gentle kindness, there was an iron will that no one could sway.

She was brave to the point of foolishness and it was interesting to see her overcome her fears. She knew the dangers she was getting herself into but she just chose to ignore them. It was a youthful ignorance I found adorable.

And she had this facination with me, I couldn't describe it. I could handle blatant staring and crude fantasies - and she had her fair share of those - but the underlying wonder to her thoughts made me flushed and self-conscious. It was a very strange reaction, especially for someone as old as me; but then again, no one had been this interested.

She wanted to know the name of the exact shade of my hair and if my eyes were really violet or if they were just a really dark blue. She was intrigued by the thought of my extended life and instead of the envy I usually received, she was merely curious about what it was like to live so long.

I would have answered all her questions and then some if only she would have asked. I found myself wishing that she did. I wanted her to know me like I wanted to know her.

I'd met her barely two weeks when she became the primary thought on my mind.

She had come to me and brought with her an explosion of color and feelings. I began to notice things, things that seemed so trivial and boring before.

I noticed how the sunshine matched the exact color of her silky locks, and how beautiful wild lilies would look in her hair. I noticed how the trees strangely resembled her eyes; dark brown with flecks of ochre green. Those huge brown eyes that swirled with emotion, so innocent it broke your heart. I saw everything now, heard every gentle whisper of the wind.

Strawberries became my new favourite fruit simply because that was how I imagined her lips would taste like. Would _feel_ like.

There were many times when I would contemplate just leaning forward and pressing my lips to hers, or running my hand through her devilishly sinful braids. The way she said my name sent pleasant shivers down my spine and I was often caught breathless by her adorably toothy smile.

Everything was so new. And so incredibly strong. Passions that had remained dormant for centuries were coming alive in the most glorious of ways. I hadn't felt so alive in ... ever.

It was like she showed me these things. She reminded me of the beauty I had given up on. She made me _feel_.

And in the short time I knew her, she became my obsession.

Isabel. Isabel, Isabel, _Isabel. _My tongue wrapped easily around that wonderful name, like a caress.

I was blind not to have noticed her beauty before. I could stare at her until the last tree rotted away and the world blew up in flames.

Isabel.

Something bubbled in my chest. Like it always does when I think of her. It was an amazing feeling. The bubble grew and rose until it exploded beneath my lids in tiny fireworks of elated joy.

Isabel.

Everything about her confounded me.

Like how she was so impossibly _tiny_. She couldn't be more than five feet tall. And very petite. I could wrap one arm around her small waist and have it overlap.

And the way she held herself; as if trying to compensate for her small build.

Her narrow shoulders were held straight and aligned, yet relaxed slightly like the position was natural to her.

The smooth arch of her back gave her an overall appearance of poise and grace that her movements only accentuated. To say she _walked_ would be lying. More like she _glided_. Her limbs flowed effortlessly with her motion, as fluid as the air around them. Like she was always dancing. It was so... _sensuous_. Just watching her move awoke in me feelings I never knew existed. I was simply mesmerized with every sway of her minuscule body.

For someone so small, she had an awful lot of energy. She was constantly fiddling with something or simply bouncing in her seat. One shameful time, my mind slipped and I imagined her bouncing somewhere else...

It took two weeks for reality to come crashing back down. It was the night my feelings were justified and then torn away.

I finally realised that all these things I was feeling, I shouldn't be feeling. These thoughts I had about her, this obsession I had found in her was very inappropriate. They bordered on dangerous territory. I would never be - could never be anything more than a friend to her, even if there was any chance that she returned my feelings.

I was just being foolish and reckless, setting myself up for hurt. Even if she was my soulmate, there was no way we could ever be together. My little fantasies were just the wild ravings of a pitifully deprived man-child.

She didn't love me; not as I loved her. And oh, how I loved her. _Worshiped_ her. I admitted it simply because there was no use in denying it. I loved her, more than I loved myself.

I ler her go. I gave her my heart and let her go. And even if the burning whole in my chest would never heal, and my tears would never dry, she should be happy... happy without me.

I had nothing to offer her but a painful history and a black future. I could never show her just how deep my adoration went. I could never worship her in the way an angel deserved to be worshiped. I could never give her the sweet caress of a lover or gentle kisses of assurance. There was no future for her with me. Only pain.

So I let her go.

She could love whomever she wished and though I knew it would kill me, I would be happy for her. If she was happy.

A year passed.

Try as I might, I could not get over my infatuation. I should have known I would turn masochistic at the first signs of love. I was pathetic.

I decided around three months in that the pain would be there either way, so I might as well get something out of it.

I watched her bloom through the year, caught up in every minor change. She seemed all the more beautiful now.

The youthfull roundness of her features angled off, giving her a sense of maturity. Her lips seemed fuller, and redder - cherry like. Her cheekbones were higher and her chin became a little straighter.

She'd grown an entire three inches - something she was exceedingly proud of - and could now reach the second shelf of the kitchen cupboards (she said so herself - with a glorious smile that split her tiny face in two).

With each time I saw her, and each time she went away, a new pain appeared. When I was in her presence, my never ending thirst for her was somewhat satiated; yet it was a bitter sweat feeling because I knew she would have to leave, to get back to her normal life, and I would miss her that much more.

Sometimes, I would delude myself into thinking she was looking at me from the corner of her eye. Those little shy glances that no one but a stalkerishly obsessed person like myself would notice. I found myself wondering what that meant. I knew she found me handsome (that fist meeting did wonders for my ego) and somewhat mysterious (typical teenage girl), but did it go any deeper than that? I should hope not. For her; it would be better for her if I was no more than a friend to her.

It was almost fitting that I was taken to the underworld. Sort of a wake up call; a reminder of what the future held for me. It brought things into perspective, something I was not able to do in Isabel's shinning presence. Deprived of her bubbling happiness and life for so long and knowing she could never get to me showed me exactly how much of a drug she had become to me. I was too dependant on seeing her again; I had put off coming to terms with the fact that I would never have her because I knew that I _could_ have her, if just for a few moments while I briefed her on an upcoming mission.

My resolve strengthened with each pain-full pulse of my bruised body; if I lived through this (which I very much wished I didn't), I would break all ties with her. No matter the cost to my heart, she would be a friend and a pupil and nothing more. It was wrong of me to harbour false hopes - even unintentionally; it would only bring us both pain in the end.

It was ironic really, when you can be so absolutely sure of one thing one second and have that knowledge shattered the next. It was rather disturbing really - like a slap to the face when you least expect it.

Seeing her there, sitting in the dark, her brown eyes dull with worry and fear, tears dried on her angelic face - it brought out every banished feeling I had for her, and I could not resist her allure. I didn't even try.

My lips gravitated towards hers like a satellite drawn to its earth, the gravity between us intensifying and I showed her what I could not say. To my surprise - and great delight - she did not pull away. Her beautiful sweet lips moved with mine and I did not care that we may not make it out of this alive and I did not care that a power hungry immortal was waiting just behind those walls for the perfect moment to send us all to hell - there was only me and her and the sweet love between our lips. Like fresh summer strawberries.

Our first sweet kiss, our unconfessed love - it clouded my mind and kept me floating high, beyond the darkness of this dead world. Everything shone out brighter than the sun. She had brought life with her.

The next hour or so were passed in a daze as I struggled to find the power she believed I possessed. Though I doubted my own ability, I tried regardless. I did it for her. If I could get her out of here, I would - even if I had to give my life to do it.

I had never been through so many emotions. It was quite disorienting. I went from relieved to anxious to downright enraged all in a matter of five minutes or so. I cannot describe what it was like waiting for Lorian's judgment. Imagine someone pulling out every nerve of your body one by one until you think you'll go mad with stress. I knew from his contemplative face he was thinking over what I had said.

I also knew that whatever the verdict I would keep her safe. I would go against my own father - and resident immortal - and break every oath of allegience I had ever sworn. I would fight for the rest of eternity just to keep her safe. It didn't matter to me anymore whether or not she would ever be mine - the thought of her _dead _was not something I could live with. Not something I was willing to live with. She was my heart and my soul and I would follow her to the grave if I must.

Apparently all that epic crap - as Matt had so eloquently put it- was not entirely necessary. We would have our happily ever after - forever. Maybe the universe had had enough drama. Or maybe it was just taking pity.

I didn't care. I would take it.

She was more amazing than I had ever hoped to imagine. I experienced a whole new set of fresh emotions - each one more glorious than the next.

The first time she said 'I love you' - and every time since - no words could describe the utter elation I felt as her pouty lips moved to form those words.

Waking up to the sweet smell of her hair, her small body curled up and pressed against mine - incredibly warm despite her smallness. She looked adorable when she was sleeping, like a child.

I put lilies in her hair and watched her twirl around herself, giggling madly as she tripped us backward dizzily. I was too caught up in our blinding happiness to notice much else than her. I was on a constant high that only her absence could bring me down from.

I loved how her face would scrunch up when she tasted something she didn't like and how her deep brown eyes would flare angrily when she was being stubborn. She looked divine when she was angry.

Her name became synonymous with happiness and love. The world would automaticly grow brighter at her very mention.

It was a strange feeling to be in love and be loved in return. Something I cherished more than anything in the world. I could never thank my father enough for giving her to me. And suddenly eternity was not long enough.

I can hardly comprehend how happy she made me. I would spend the rest of my existence returning the favour.

And now as she squealed and laughed in my arms, the tinkling sound ringing beautifully in my ears, my heart soared, my mind exploding with happiness and I laughed with her as she struggled against my restraining arms. Little did she know, I would never let her go.

I had found my reason.


End file.
